


The Lonely Prince

by haganenoheichou



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Dom/sub, Galra!Keith, Lance gets captured, Lance is hot for Prince, M/M, Multi, Prince!Keith, Shklance Big Bang, Sub Drop, Sub Keith, dom shiro, shklance - Freeform, subpace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-27
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-24 08:30:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13807425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haganenoheichou/pseuds/haganenoheichou
Summary: When Lance wakes up onboard an alien ship, he never expects to come face-to-face with a disinherited alien Prince and his human bodyguard. He definitely never expects to fall for both of them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Finally, the posting period of the Shklance Big Bang is upon us! Thank you so much to the wonderful mods who made the event possible! 
> 
> Also, a huge, enormous, loving hug and thank you to my artist, [yainedraws](https://yainedraws.tumblr.com) for drawing this beautiful art, please go [reblog](https://yainedraws.tumblr.com/post/171358235487/my-piece-for-the-shklancebigbang-it-was-a) it!

Waking up was a nightmare. Which was already kind of impossible because waking up prevented nightmares, but Lance McClain had always been capable of the impossible; and right now, the impossible was giving him one hell of a headache.

His ears rang as he opened his eyes slowly, trying to focus on something other than the bright purplish light that threatened to burn his irises. He blinked several times, acclimatizing to the sight, and then frowned. He was in what looked like a very cheesy-looking futuristic pad, with ultraviolet strips and metal everywhere. It reminded him of those times when he’d played laser tag as a kid.

“He’s awake.”

Lance tried to whip around to center his focus on the source of the words, a deep, soothing voice; but he found that he couldn’t because his limbs were effectively immobilized.

He looked down, afraid of what he was going to find.

And he was right to be afraid – he was strapped to the wall, suspended several feet off the floor. And there were glowing eyes staring at him.

“What the–,”

The… _the person_ in front of him stood then, inching closer curiously. They were tall, with longish black hair and golden, almost yellow eyes. They moved with feline grace, clad in a suit so tight, they could audition for Catwoman right now and get the part hands down.

Another reason why they'd get the part was that they were, in fact, sporting a pair of fluffy, perky ears on top of their head.

Oh, and they were purple. Dark purple.

Lance mentally patted himself on the back for not screeching and passing out.

"Cool costume, bro," he said, his voice hoarse. His eyes widened when the… cat-thing got closer, so close that he could see the frown on their face even in the semi-darkness of the room.

“It’s insolent,” the cat-person said, lifting an eyebrow.

Lance scoffed. “I think I get the right to be _insolent_ given that you _kidnapped_ –,”

“Do earthlings always talk so much?” The cat-person _tsked_ , glancing at something or someone behind them. Lance tried to see beyond the darkness, but his eyes wouldn’t focus properly.

“I’m afraid so,” came the answer, and Lance was not prepared for the absolutely _human_ face that emerged out of the darkness as the other person in the room took several steps closer. Human and _handsome_. Like, _really fucking hot_. Lance found himself thanking the bi gods for allowing him to appreciate this _fine_ specimen of man meat even as he was tied up and completely helpless.

The man was tall – taller than Lance, who was the very definition of a flagpole. He was also _jacked_. Lance could only ever hope and dream and give up on said dream to have guns like these. This dude was huge. He was dressed in the same tight-fitting outfit as the cat-person, and he was packing what looked like a large knife strapped to his thigh. And judging from the tightness of his outfit allowed Lance to see, he was also packing something _else_.

_Focus, Lance. You’re in captivity. Stop thinking about mystery handsome dude’s dick._

_That’s right, Lance. Focus on his face instead._

And it was a handsome face, too. Even the scar the man sported across the bridge of his nose didn't spoil it – instead, it _enhanced it_. And his eyes were pretty – his eyelashes were so thick and dark it looked like he had eyeliner _and_ mascara on. Though Lance doubted that these cat-people would provide their… whoever this person was with mascara.

It was a funny thought, and his panicked mind failed to catch up with reality, so a small giggle bubbled out of his throat.

The cat-person and the handsome dude just stared at him for a hot minute.

“Uh… right,” the cat-person said. “Seems that this one is a little bit below average intelligence from what you have told me, Shiro.”

“ _Hey_ –,”

“Perhaps, perhaps not,” _Shiro_ replied. He glanced at Lance curiously. “Humans tend to react instinctively and unpredictably when they are stressed out or anxious or afraid, Your Highness.”

 _Your Highness?_ Lance frowned. So, the cat-person was some sort of royalty, right. Some sort of _alien_ royalty.

Well, Hunk owed him twenty bucks now, because Lance had been right. Aliens did exist. Or he had been kidnapped to some kind of Hollywood set. But no, aliens were a much more refreshing possibility.

The cat-person sighed deeply. “Shiro, we’ve been over this. I am not Lotor, I don’t need you to stand on ceremony. It’s Kethelsar.”

“Your Highness is easier to pronounce,” Shiro mumbled. Lance looked at the two of them curiously. It seemed as though they had a weirdly close relationship – closer than any cat-prince and human servant he would have envisioned, had his imagination be rich enough to come up with something as elaborate as this.

Kethelsar sighed deeply.

“Is either one of you going to tell me where the hell I am?” Lance asked. The duo glared at him, and he shrank back into the wall. “Uh… _please_?”

“You are my captive,” the cat-prince said, straightening up a little bit. He was almost as tall as Shiro, but his ears let him cheat on the whole let’s-compare-how-tall-we-are thing.

“I gathered that much, thanks,” Lance replied waspishly. Shiro seemed to find that amusing, as a small smile crossed his features before he managed to school them into a semblance of indifference.

"My name is Kethelsar. I am the Second Prince of the Galra. This is Shiro. He is human, as you are, although my people have enhanced him.”

_Enhanced him? What– Oh._

Shiro’s entire right arm was a big hunk of metal. Glowing metal with tons and tons of junctures but metal nonetheless. Lance shuddered to think just why and how Shiro had been _enhanced_.

“Shiro is my personal guard and the head of my security,” Kethelsar said. “Which means that if you try anything, he will be the one to stop you. You don’t want to be on his bad side.”

Lance eyed the metal arm and gulped. _Don’t get on Shiro’s bad side, got it_.

“Do you understand the position you are in?” Kethelsar asked.

"I, uh… so, w-what am I doing here, exactly?" Lance blurted out, glancing between the two. "I mean, I got the part where I was kidnapped by an alien cat Prince–,”

“Galra,” Shiro corrected him quickly as Kethelsar’s ear twitched in irritation.

“Gal– _what?_ Anyway, I got that part,” Lance said, the words coming out in a flurry. He’d deal with whatever the hell a _Galra_ was later. "But, uh, why do you need me? I'm not that interesting or talented at anything but Cards Against Humanity, and ugly sobbing over chick flicks–,"

“–and talking, apparently–,” Kethelsar added.

“–so, I don’t know how I can be useful,” Lance finished. He honestly didn’t understand why of all the billions of people on planet Earth, he was the one tied up by cat monsters and their human boy-toys.

“Simple,” Kethelsar said, taking a step back to put himself into a very sinister-looking, movie-villain armchair. Probably not from Ikea.

“I wanted a human pet, and you were stupid enough to get caught by people.”

Lance wanted to protest at that, but he saw Shiro's expression and rethought that. "But… I mean, you already have Shiro, why would you…?"

“Shiro is worth a thousand of you,” Kethelsar drawled. Lance bristled a little bit at that as the Galra Prince stared him down, his eyes creepily unflinching. Lance felt like a bug under close microscopic inspection.

“He is my personal protector. You are here for more… _decorative_ purposes. Do you understand?”

“I’m a zoo animal?” Lance scoffed. He was a person with _feelings_ , damn it!

“A pet,” Kethelsar repeated. “I will take good care of you if you behave yourself and don’t cross me. If you do, though… I cannot promise anything good will happen to you.”

* * *

This was how Lance McClain, recent graduate from the Space Garrison, and single bachelor with dashing good looks and sexy pickup lines he could fire off in two languages, ended up seated at the feet of the cat-prince, dressed in what could only be described as a very skimpy outfit. Basically, it was just two pieces of sheer gray cloth, stitched together and belted so that they wouldn’t billow around him and expose his privates. It seemed as though the Galra, at least, had the same concept of modesty as humans did, with some margin of error.

Kethelsar leaned back in his seat, engrossed in what seemed to be the outer-space version of an e-book, his hands absentmindedly coming down to play with Lance’s hair from time to time.

“Would you stop that?” Lance asked through gritted teeth.

Kethelsar looked at him in surprise. “Is it not pleasant?”

Lance gave him an incredulous look.

“I was rather under the impression that humans enjoyed physical touch,” the Prince told him. “At least, that is what Shiro has told me previously. Has he been untruthful?”

Great. Now it was either accept being touched by the space cat who had kidnapped him, or throw Shiro under the bus. Or whatever it was that they had in space.

“Uh, no. Just… um, we only touch people we like, most of the time,” Lance said carefully.

Kethelsar looked at him thoughtfully for a long moment, before withdrawing his hand. “I see. Apologies, then. I was not aware of this custom. Shiro has been quite forthcoming with me touching him.”

Lance frowned. “Just what kind of relationship–,”

“One that is none of your concern,” Kethelsar cut him off before he could finish the question. “You would be wise to remember that you are here as a pet. Not a guest or someone who should be asking things that are beyond your station.”

Lance huffed irritably. “You have a great way of telling me to fuck off without telling me to fuck off.”

The Galra lifted an eyebrow. “I have been schooled in matters of diplomacy,” he said. “It is only natural that I can convey a message without being crude.”

The human rolled his eyes at that. “Do you ever pull that stick out of your ass for just a second?”

Kethelsar looked at him quite aghast. “I assure you, there are no sticks anywhere on, or inside, my person.”

“It’s a turn of phrase.” Lance sighed impatiently. “Means that you’re uptight.”

“Uptight?”

“Too damn formal and snooty. You sound like something out of a period movie or something.”

“A _what_ –,”

“Never mind.”

Silence reigned in the room as the two of them stewed. Lance just wanted out of here. He was missing the new season of _How to Get Away with Murder_ because of this, and he was pissed. He wondered whether this ship could catch satellite broadcasts from Earth.

“Hey, uh… Prince?”

“Your Highness,” Kethelsar corrected. “But go on.”

“How far away from Earth are we?” Lance asked.

The Galra looked at him with a small frown.

“Just for… curiosity’s sake.”

“Several million light-years away," Kethelsar said smoothly. "We have jumped through a few hundred wormholes since you were captured.”

Lance’s heart dropped into his stomach. Well, no Annalise Keating for him.

No mama and abuela either.

And no Ana, no Bradley, no Fer. All of them were back on Earth, never to see him again.

He swallowed thickly, glancing up at the Prince with resentment as tears began to well up in his eyes. He wiped at them violently – he didn’t want his captor to see weakness. “Take me back.”

The Prince just looked at him with a somewhat quizzical expression, like he would never have expected his captive human even to _want_ to be taken back home.

“I am afraid that is not possible,” Kethelsar said, clearly oblivious to Lance’s plight. “We cannot risk having you expose our existence to earthlings. At least, not yet. My father would have you killed and your planet destroyed if you were ever to escape my keep.”

Lance opened his mouth to protest, but the horrible sinking in his chest seemed to deepen. The Earth, destroyed because of him?

“Besides, you are quite a fascinating creature to study.”

“I’m not some lab rat!” Lance protested hotly, all sadness erased and replaced with burning anger. He whipped around to look at the Prince. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of the sentries tense up and grab their gun. He ignored them. “I have a life back home! A family!”

“Family?”

Lance nearly did a double-take at the way Kethelsar’s lip suddenly curled, turning his somewhat handsome face into a grimace.

“Families are nothing but a hindrance,” the Prince announced, getting up and off his chair. Lance nearly fell back at the sudden movement. He watched as the Prince made his way towards the exit of the room, his reader tucked under his arm. Lance could tell by the way his tail twitched that Kethelsar was irritated. Interesting.

“Families are unnecessary, spiteful things. Do not bring it up again,” Kethelsar said darkly, as the doors slid open for him with a hiss. Lance almost got whiplash.

“Unless you want to be punished severely.”

The door closed with a whoosh, and Lance was left to sit on his pillow, deposited at the foot of the chair. Despite his predicament, the ridiculous outfit, and the fact that he still didn’t know whether Connor and Oliver were going to tie the knot, he felt a little bit better.

He had touched a nerve. Apparently, there were things that even the mighty Galra Prince didn’t want to talk about. This could come in handy later.

He had to get back home. And if that meant stepping all over the cat-alien’s _sensibilities_ , he’d do it again in a heartbeat.

The door opened once more, and Lance was almost ready to yell at Kethelsar, only to see Shiro standing there.

The man was an imposing figure; tall and ridiculously lean, with those scars of his and incredibly kind eyes, he was the kind of guy that Lance would swoon over but never get back home. Because that had always been Lance’s rotten luck. He had always been good for a dance at a bar, but never good enough to be taken home by anyone but his mom who had been forced to pick him up drunk from the seediest places in town one too many times.

“Come with me,” Shiro said nodding at the door. “I’m to escort you back to your room.”

“You mean my _cell_ ," Lance said emphatically, getting up and walking over to Shiro's side. The man didn't seem uncomfortable with the correction; any other human working for what appeared to be the enemy would.

“There’s food there,” Shiro said, as he led Lance down the long, dimly-lit hallway. “His Highness wants to make sure that you are well-fed.”

“Well, if it’s the same thing you’ve been eating since you came here,” Lance said with a smirk. “Because damn, man, you’ve got muscle.”

Shiro seemed a little bit thrown by the comment. “Pardon?”

Lance reached out to touch Shiro’s flesh arm, and the man winced away from him. “Sorry,” he said, frowning. “Reflex.”

“What kind of reflex is that?” Lance asked suspiciously.

Shiro appraised him with a long look and then glanced away. “I don’t think you have the right to know that story. Not yet.”

Lance bristled. “I’m your hostage, and you’re the one who doesn’t trust me?”

"I wouldn't trust myself if I were a hostage," Shiro said simply.

“Aren’t you one too?” Lance asked challengingly.

Shiro sighed deeply, glancing down at his metal hand. “It’s complicated. Maybe one day His Highness will tell you the story himself.”

"What's the deal with you two anyway?" Lance asked, curious. "You seem weirdly… close. Like, I don't know, Xena and Gabrielle close."

“Who?” Shiro looked at him blankly. Lance scoffed.

“How long have you _been_ here, man? If you don’t know the awesome show that was ever made?”

Shiro shrugged. “A while. I have lost count at this point. With all the space travel, you can’t really tell what time it is on Earth.”

“Well, what’s the last day you remember?” Lance asked, frowning. He couldn’t imagine just how much time would pass before he’d see his family again. If ever. Maybe he’d be an old man by then.

“April thirtieth, nineteen-seventy.”

Lance’s jaw almost hit the floor. No freaking way.

Shiro frowned at his reaction, pausing by the door to Lance’s new room to open it. “What?”

“Dude, it’s two-thousand seventeen back home,” Lance replied, his tongue numb in his mouth. How was this even possible? Shiro looked _young_ , definitely _not_ eighty. What the _fuck_?!

Shiro’s frown deepened. “That can’t be right.”

“I’m telling you! We have smartphones and Wi-Fi and space travel and shit.”

“We had space travel back then too! Apollo 11, Apollo 13, ring any bell?” Shiro asked, crossing his arms defensively. He looked like he didn’t want to pry into why a phone needed to be smart.

“Yeah, from _history_ class!” Lance said, still kind of shaken up by the discovery. He hummed, looking at Shiro. “Well, if it’s any consolation, you don’t look a day over thirty.”

“I’m actually twenty-five,” Shiro said. “Well… I was. When… When I joined the crew of this ship.”

“You _joined_?” Lance asked incredulously.

They walked into his room where trays with various kinds of space goo had been prepared for him. Shiro stood uncomfortably by the door as if he didn't know if he was allowed inside or not.

"I had no choice but to join," he said quietly. "I was… I was on a secret space mission after _Apollo 13_ nearly failed. They wanted to send someone up without the press knowing so that the next one wasn't botched as well, and I was one of the astronauts they chose. We were passing by the moon when…" Shiro seemed to catch himself, frowning. It was apparent that he was no longer used to sharing details about his life with other people. Lance wondered whether Kethelsar had ever expressed any interest in Shiro's story.

“Well, I don’t know. It’s all kind of a blur.”

Lance knew that there was something Shiro wasn't telling him, but he chose to let it go. Hell, if they were going to spend the rest of their days cooped up in here, he might as well save something for later.

“I should go,” Shiro said, turning towards the door. “The Prince is waiting for me.”

“I bet he is,” Lance said, lifting a spoonful of goo to inspect it. It smelled faintly of tamarind and strawberries. A weird combination, but Lance was quite hungry.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Shiro asked, his voice hard.

Lance just shrugged, waving the man off. “Nothing at all. I’m sure you’re indispensable to _His Highness._ ”

“You would do well not to get on his bad side,” Shiro said by ways of goodbye before the door slid shut and locked behind him.

“So I’ve been told,” Lance said to the door, before digging in. Whatever this space goo was, the flavors were going to take some getting used to.

As was the rest of the weirdness aboard this ship.

* * *

Ever since that conversation, Lance decided to be a more careful listener. Besides plotting his own escape, he was also acting on his natural curiosity to discover more information about Kethelsar and his guard. Well, the rest of his crew, too, but Lance had to admit that Shiro was the most interesting of the lot.

Why would a human, one who had apparently dabbled a little in time-travel, willingly or not, join an alien army? Why would he vow to guard an alien Prince’s life with his own? And why would he let said alien operate on him and replace his human arm with something that looked like a prop out of _The Terminator_?

Also, why would he look at the alien Prince with this strange, unreadable expression… as if he was waiting for something that would never come?

Lance carried on listening in on their conversation and occasionally trying to seduce Shiro into a chat. The man was also on his toes around Lance, though; it seemed Shiro was one of those brooding, secretive types. As was the Prince, who barely ever shared anything with Lance despite his insistence on having the human spend a lot of time in his presence, usually lounging about by his feet and telling him stories about the Earth.

One thing Lance had learned was that Kethelsar had a serious obsession with all things Earth-related. Like, _total_ obsession. Kethelsar would ask him all sort of questions, ranging from the purpose of tofu to the causes of climate change. The Prince seemed to hang off Lance’s every word, carefully filing away any information Lance gave him, be it important or not. Lance had no idea what that meant, but it was kind of… nice, in a weird way.

So he told Kethelsar things. He told him about the Garrison and space flight, he told him about Taco Bell and Taylor Swift and why _CSI: Las Vegas_ was better than _CSI: Miami._ He told Kethelsar about Cuba and his favorite ice-cream place on Playa Varadero and how his mother always had a telenovela on while cooking, even though she wasn’t even paying attention to the storyline. He told him about chocolate and French fries and blueberry yogurt.

He told Kethelsar about his friends, Hunk and Pidge, and about that time he had talked them into sneaking off campus to go to a strip club, only to get carded and sent back to be punished for their misdemeanor.

It took him a while to realize just how much he had told the alien Prince. How much he had spoken of only because it had felt good to talk about it to someone; even if that someone had no idea about the difference between hummus and ketchup.

Even if that someone still refused to share his real reason for not wanting to let Lance go back.

* * *

“So, why are you here?” He asked Shiro one morning while the other man busied himself by training against a combat droid. The Prince was still asleep, and Lance had asked Shiro to take him down to the training deck if only to watch him work out since he was dying of boredom alone in his quarters. Shiro was good, and he was fascinating to watch. Lance knew that he was probably drooling and Shiro probably knew, but he wasn't about to deny himself the pleasure of being the sole spectator to the sexiest man in the universe – now Lance could kind of say that, since he'd travelled far beyond the limits of the Earth – being all sweaty and hot and aggressive.

Lance had always had a little bit of a violence kink in him; he could only picture the way those biceps flexed in bed, how those abs would taste under his tongue–

Right. They were supposed to be having a conversation.

"What do you mean?" Shiro asked, landing another heavy punch right in the droid's face with his human hand. It swayed a little but remained standing.

“I mean, it looks like the Prince likes you. Can’t you just ask him to let you go back to Earth or something?”

“And do what?” Shiro asked, huffing. “It’s not like there’s anyone left back there for me. Besides, I’m used to this.”

“This what?” Lance asked curiously. “Playing babysitter to some space king’s spoiled brat?”

Shiro glanced at him and paused the training program, sighing deeply. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. And he’s the Emperor, not a king.”

“The _Emperor’s_ brat, then,” Lance corrected himself.

Shiro looked like he was about to tut at him disapprovingly; so deep was the reproach on his face.

“Kethelsar is not spoiled,” he said. “I can tell you that right now.”

“He has a whole ship to himself, and a human slave-captive-person,” Lance said. “Well, _two_ , counting myself.”

Shiro leaned back against the wall, measuring Lance with a _look_. “Have you noticed any other people around here?”

“What do you mean?” Lance asked with a frown. “Of course, there’s all the guards and everything–,”

“They’re drones. The sentries are all drones,” Shiro said quietly. Lance’s frown deepened.

“What do you mean–,”

"I mean that you and he and I are the only living creatures aboard this ship," Shiro murmured. “You and I are the only people he can actually talk to.”

It took Lance a hot minute to recover from the shock. “Well, that doesn’t mean that he has the right to _kidnap_ –,”

“He rescued me.”

“…pardon?”

“Kethelsar rescued me.”

“Uh… not following.” Which part of Shiro being kidnapped by aliens and turned into John fucking Silver 2.0 sounded like a rescue?

The taller man sighed impatiently, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his flesh hand. He hummed thoughtfully, probably wondering whether Lance deserved to know this kind of information.

“Hey, man, you don’t have to tell me–,”

“When I was taken by the Galra, it was Zarkon who took me. Kethelsar’s father. The Emperor,” Shiro began, licking his lips. That was a start – Lance had never seen the man even remotely nervous.

“Zarkon is… not like the Prince. He enjoys torture and conquering and subjugating. He enjoys humiliating the peoples his soldiers have defeated. And I… I was one of his best attractions, I suppose. Well, me and many others.”

“You see, on Zarkon’s ship, the mother ship, if you will… there’s an arena. Where they pit all the captives against each other. And I was one of them.”

Lance lifted a hand to cover his mouth. Suddenly, Shiro’s metal arm was too bright to look at.

“I… I don’t really know how much time I spent there,” Shiro admitted, shaking his head. “It’s all a blur of blood and carnage and… survival. I was declared Champion. And I thought I was doomed to that life forever. My will finally gave out, and I was about to let someone murder me and take my title, for what it was worth. But then Kethelsar came to visit his father.”

“He saw me fight, he saw that I was done for, and at the last moment, when I thought that I was going to die, he asked Zarkon give me to him as a guard. The Emperor agreed, in exchange for…”

“For what?” Lance asked, getting impatient.

“In exchange for Kethelsar never coming back to the mother ship and never staking a claim to the throne. Or darkening Zarkon’s doorway, really.”

“Wait, _what_?” Lance gaped. “You mean that he _gave up_ the throne for you?”

Shiro nodded. “Well… It wasn’t worth much, anyway, to be honest. Kethelsar isn’t the only son Zarkon has. There’s also Lotor, and he is the elder son, and much, much more… Galra-like, I guess. He’s a vicious animal, and he’s smart too. There was no question as to who would be the heir.”

“But Zarkon still wanted to make sure that–,”

“–that I would never come back and try to steal my elder brother’s title.”

The two of them whipped around to see Kethelsar standing in the doorway, looking strangely small and tired, clad in a long violet robe which seemed to be more of a sleeping garment than anything.

“Your Highness–,” Shiro began, but the Galra put a hand up, cutting him off, and making him bow his head. Lance couldn’t help but marvel at how amazingly _obedient_ Shiro was when it came to the Prince.

“Spare me the apologies,” Kethelsar said. He turned to look at Lance. “And the pity. I don’t need it. I would much rather be seen by you as the alien enemy who had taken you and kidnapped you from your natural habitat.”

 _That way, I can be strong in your eyes. That way, you are here because I am in control,_ was what Kethelsar was saying. Lance understood that. Shiro understood that. And Kethelsar did too.

The human just nodded, allowing the Prince to preserve a modicum of his pride.

“If you are quite finished,” Kethelsar began, glancing back at Shiro, “I require your presence in my chambers.”

Shiro nodded his head in a slight bow and filed out of the room after the Prince, keeping a respectful distance between them. Lance was left sitting on the training deck, completely stumped.

The three of them were the only living beings aboard this craft. The rest of the… _things_ here were robots; robots who served under Kethelsar’s father and made sure that the Prince was safe but not too safe. Not safe enough to come back and stake a claim on the throne he had never wanted in the first place.

It was only much later that he realized he hadn’t been taken back to his room and placed under watch.

* * *

There was definitely something going on between Shiro and the Prince. That much Lance knew; if only because Shiro kept giving his… employer? Master? Strange looks. _Those_ kinds of strange looks that reminded Lance of eighth grade and that time in kindergarten when he’d been convinced he would marry Stan Burton because Stan Burton had been the master of the biggest bug collection in their year.

Except, in this case, the bug collection was the Galra Empire, and Lance was pretty sure that Shiro didn't really want _that_. What Shiro did want, much to Lance’s chagrin, was Prince Kethelsar.

Lance wasn’t an expert on crushes – whom was he kidding – but he knew a puppy-eyed look when he saw one. And Shiro was really good at those; while the Prince remained seemingly ignorant.

That made Lance wonder whether crushes were a thing in the Galra Empire. Maybe they went straight to mating. Or perhaps not. _How_ did they even mate in the first place?

Did he really want to know?

Well, regardless of whether he wanted to know or not, he was forced to face it when one night he, running high on his new-found freedom (Kethelsar hadn’t had him guarded for a while), had indiscreetly walked past the Prince’s quarters and heard a very characteristic sound behind the door.

Moaning.

He froze in his tracks.

It was definitely moaning. And then the distinct noise of flesh smacking against flesh. Hard.

Shit. The door was open. Not too much, just a crack, but enough for his curious eye to venture into what was happening inside. He should have known.

He should have known that what he’d see would be Kethelsar, the alien Prince of Galra, on his hands and knees across a humongous bed, with Shiro behind him, engaged in movements as old as time. Shiro, with his human hand buried in Kethelsar’s hair, pulling and making him moan even louder.

His bionic hand, on the other hand, was poised on Kethelsar’s throat, clenching it rather hard. Dark bruises, almost black, appeared on the Prince’s purple skin. Raspy moans fought their way out from between his lips, and he leaned back – not away – from Shiro, encouraging him to clench his hand tighter.

“Shi-Shiro–,”

“Shut up.”

Lance flinched at Shiro’s tone, and almost let out a yelp when he saw the man bring his human hand down and smack Kethelsar’s ass, _hard_. What was even weirder was that the Prince only moaned louder.

_Jesus._

The Galra Prince was a slut for pain. And Shiro was the way he got off.

“ _S-sir_ ,” came Kethelsar’s shaky voice, and Lance could have sworn his heart dropped into his heels. What the _hell_ , what the _hell_ , what the _hell_ …

“Sir, _please_ …” Kethelsar's lips parted, and he moaned hoarsely, his hips moving back to accept Shiro into his body. Well, at least Lance knew now that Galra bits apparently weren't that different from human ones. Uh… yay for an educational experience?

Lance saw through wide eyes how Shiro’s hand tightened even more and the Prince moaned raspily, clearly basking in the sensation. Shiro threw his head back and thrust in hard. Lance saw his chest heave with pleasure, his scarred skin shining with sweat.

 _Damn_. Lance wanted to lick it all up.

He watched with rapt fascination as Kethelsar’s eyes rolled into the back of his head as he shuddered, shaking apart in Shiro’s hold, Shiro’s name on his lips. He watched Shiro smack him again, demeaning, harsh words spilling from his usually friendly tongue.

“Fuck, _Keith–_ ,” Shiro moaned, when his own body took over control, causing him to tremble as well as he fell onto the Prince’s back, his eyes screwed shut. Lance watched Kethelsar’s knees buckle – the two of them collapsed onto the bed, panting hard. The Prince coughed a little when Shiro finally let go of his neck.

Lance had no idea how he managed to make his way back to his room. His feet felt like marshmallows, and his robe was bunched up a little bit in the front.

Fuck, as if he needed any more reason to lust after Shiro.

It wasn’t _just_ Shiro, though, he knew that. As he sat down on his bed and threw his robe off decisively, he saw the Prince’s throat, wrapped tightly in Shiro’s bionic fingers.

So, Lance was in a bit of a situation. That situation being that he had probably developed some sort of weird Stockholm Syndrome thingy that somehow made him feel like he wanted to get into the pants of the two people (well, _persons_ ) that were keeping him captive.

Definitely not a sound basis for a healthy relationship. But maybe good enough for a quickie in that throne room?

Right, Lance. Focus.

He was a prisoner here. There was no room for sympathy onboard this ship, not for the Prince who had just decided to kidnap him as a fascinating case study. And not for Shiro, who had helped him do it and kept an eye on Lance to make sure he wasn’t out of line.

Even though Shiro had been in his shoes once before.

And now Shiro seemed to be the one who was… in control? At least, that was what it had looked like to Lance, from that tiny crack between the door and the wall. _Fuck._ He remembered the way Kethelsar trembled in Shiro’s arms, begging him for more, calling him _sir_ , and Shiro being… all un-Shiro-like.

Oh, Lance knew that Shiro could exude authority when he wanted to. But he had never expected the smiling, pleasant man, the typical next-door type, to be so… _so_ …

“Hot,” he breathed to himself, unable to help it.

Fuck, he was in trouble. Or in… well, _lust_ , for the lack of a better word. The problem was figuring out which one of the two was that target of his affections.

Shiro, of course, being Shiro, was the obvious choice. He was big – in every way, now Lance knew that since he'd gotten an eyeful. He was also strong, and his arms made Lance feel safe in the way Michelle Obama's never had. His eyes were also kind, and even the scar on his nose didn't detract from his attractiveness. Overall, Shiro was a fucking dreamboat and after what he had seen, Shiro being all controlling and stuff, Lance had no qualms admitting to himself that he wanted to be tied up by the man and calling him Daddy. Yeah, Lance had issues.

What was weirder, though, was that Kethelsar was also kind of on the list. Maybe not as much as Shiro – but there was indeed some potential there. The Prince, usually cold and somewhat arrogant, was not that bad. Well, there was the whole refusing to deliver Lance back to the earth thing, and the fact that Kethelsar's father was the despot who apparently ran half of the universe and then some; but the Prince really wasn’t… too unattractive. Not that Lance was a furry. Oh, _shit_. _Was_ he a furry now?

He shook his head to try to get rid of that particular thought. So what if he found Kethelsar strangely attractive? And the way that he had begged Shiro for more had only served to increase that attraction? Lance wondered briefly what it took Shiro to make the Prince beg like that. It was apparent that the two of them had done this before; there had been a strange atmosphere of familiarity; as if Shiro knew _precisely_ which buttons to push and how to make the Prince obey.

_Fuck, Keith!_

_Keith, huh?_ Now it made sense; why Kethelsar called Shiro to his chambers, why Shiro was so close to him. Why there was a weird vulnerability about the Prince. Why Shiro seemed to be at ease with being his hostage-cum-soldier. Why he was still sticking around when he could have easily overpowered the Prince and taken over the ship. Why Kethelsar glanced at Shiro sometimes in ways that Lance hadn’t been able to decipher before. Well, he knew now what that was all about.

Kethelsar apparently liked it when Shiro hurt him in bed. He came for that to Shiro, specifically. The idea was insane but the evidence was glaring, and the fact that Shiro seemed to enjoy that sort of arrangement was…

Very arousing.

Lance slipped his eyes shut, his hand reaching down into his robe. What the two of them didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them, right?

* * *

“So, you and the Prince, huh?”

The question fought its way out of Lance's mouth before he could stop it – and he cursed said big mouth because, well, Shiro was staring at him with wide eyes and an almost puppy-dog-like look of confusion. He was even tilting his head to the side, for fuck's sake. How a veritable killing machine could look so goddamn adorable was utterly beyond Lance.

"What do you mean?" Shiro asked, and then swallowed in a way that absolutely confirmed all of Lance's suspicions – well, not suspicions because he definitely _knew_ it was happening, but pot-a-to, pot-ah-to.

He had to admit that he admired his self-control. It had been almost two weeks – or around that time, it was weird trying to count Earth days in space – since he had seen the two of them in bed, and he had been about as silent as his alarm on a Monday morning; but Lance was all too human, and all too curious for his own sake, and he really, really wanted to know all the nitty-gritty.

For science, he told himself, filing away the memory of Kethelsar’s bruised neck under _Jerk-Off Material File Number Sixteen-Thousand-and-Thirty-Three._

“You and Kethelsar are, like, together or whatever,” Lance said, observing the way Shiro’s face went from pale to pink to red.

“Whatever gave you that idea?” Shiro asked, his gaze fixed on a spot right above Lance’s right ear. Damn, Lance made a mental note that he had to invite Shiro for a game of poker one of these days because this man could not bluff to save his life.

“I know because I saw you two,” Lance said. “So you can drop the whole shocked virgin act, okay?”

A moment of silence passed between them and then Shiro’s shoulders seemed to drop, his stance slackening. He glanced at the door, seemingly worried that Kethelsar could walk in on this conversation – which would not happen: the Prince had never bothered to see Lance in his… _quarters_ and he would not stoop to that now.

“It’s not like that,” Shiro said finally, glancing back towards Lance. “We’re not… _together_ , or anything.”

“Well, depends on your definition, but you were pretty together when you were–,”

“Lance.” Shiro gave him a stern look at Lance felt himself deflate a little bit. Shiro was too serious for his own good. There had to be a way to make him lighten up a little bit. Maybe by having Kethelsar parade around in nothing but a kitty collar and–

Yeah, that train of thought came to a screeching halt before Lance’s apparently perverted mind could develop it any further.

“We’re not together,” Shiro repeated. Lance was about to protest, but the man put up his Galra hand, which glowed intimidatingly. “We’re not together, not in that kind of way. I just… help him out sometimes. That’s all.”

“You… help him out?” Lance asked, narrowing his eyes. “Like, you give him a handy to relieve stress or something?”

None of this felt like prying to him, for some reason; his mother, had she been here, would already have smacked him over the head with her wooden spoon for his lack of manners.

“In a manner of speaking,” Shiro said, looking more and more uncomfortable by the minute.

“Kethelsar’s… not like the Galra from the main fleet. And not like his father,” Shiro began. Lance fought back the urge to encourage Shiro to _speak, damn it,_ and settled down for what seemed to be quite the story.

"The Galra have two kinds of divisions, you see, species-wise, you could say," Shiro said, licking his lips. "There's the obvious gender division – although you don't see that many Galra women in the army, most of them aren't allowed since they have to, you know, tend to the kits–,"

“ _Kits?_ ” Lance asked incredulously.

Shiro gave him another _look_ , and he shut his mouth.

“Yes, Lance, kits,” Shiro said. “There is a pretty strict gender policy in the Galra army–,”

“What _are_ they, _Republicans_?” Lance asked, earning himself another look from Shiro.

“ _Anyway_ ,” Shiro said, annoyed. “There is also a division within the Galra males, as well.”

“Oh, is this some sort of Omegaverse bullshit?”

“Would you _stop_ interrupting me?!” Shiro burst out, his left eye atwitch.

Lance leaned back, putting his hands up in surrender, though he was thoroughly amused. Apparently, Shiro could also get frustrated sometimes. It was kind of adorable. And scary. But more adorable than scary.

“I have _no idea_ what _Omega-_ whatever is,” Shiro said, “but I’m guessing it’s one of your Internet things that your generation apparently enjoys.”

 _He’s not too far off the mark,_ Lance thought. He had just tried to introduce Shiro to Grumpy Cat and Harambe the other day, with mediocre success, since they were the kinds of things that one had to see to get why they were popular.

“As I was saying, Galra males… some of them are leaders: assertive, strong, aggressive.” Shiro heaved a sigh. “Like Zarkon. Dominant. They have this need to make others obey, kind of, like… a natural urge to be the boss, you know?”

Lance nodded.

“And then there are others, like Kethelsar,” Shiro said. “Submissives.”

Lance blinked. “You mean, like in… BDSM and stuff?”

Shiro shrugged. “I suppose. But it is more than that. It’s… a natural, biological kind of thing. An urge he can’t ignore for long." He glanced at the door again. "In any case, that was why Kethelsar and I have our arrangement. He needs me to take care of him. When the pressure becomes too much, he goes into this state of… I don't know; he's just not himself. And by doing what we do together, it helps. I hurt him; he takes it. I take over control once in a while, and he feels better. Understand?"

“But he’s so… _pushy_ , you know?” Lance protested, still kind off in the middle of mulling over what Shiro had just told him.

“That has nothing to do with it,” Shiro said with a small private smile. “The Prince is just very stubborn. That was part of why his father didn’t particularly enjoy him being around. He didn’t act as a good submissive would – and he refused to be handed off a diplomatic bargaining chip either. He disagreed with his father’s policies on many things and a lot of Zarkon’s advisors, his druids, and his witch, they all said that Kethelsar was no good.”

Lance suddenly felt kind of sorry for the Galra Prince. He knew what it was like to be the odd one out in the family – even though his family had never engaged in intergalactic genocide. Minor details.

"So that's our arrangement. We have sex, I rough him up, I take him down from his high afterward," Shiro explained. "That's all there is to it." 

Lance would believe him, but there was something weird about the way Shiro had said it – something inextricably _sad_.

“You want more than that, though,” he said quietly.

Shiro’s eyes widened a little bit.

“I know you do,” Lance pressed on. "I've seen the way you look at him, and I get it, he saved you and stuff, but… that’s not gratitude. Okay? I’ve seen enough of _One Tree Hill_ and shit to know what a crush looks like.”

“A _crush_?" Shiro laughed at that, the sound hollow as if someone was tossing about a coin in an empty soda can.

“Things were so much easier before you came here,” Shiro said quietly, standing up and stretching.

"I take offense to that–,"

“You are very smart,” Shiro said, and Lance’s mouth snapped shut. “It’s a good thing, most of the time. It’s just that maybe I’m not used to being around people. People who notice human things.”

He leaned back against the wall, bowing his head. “Yeah. Yeah, I have feelings for the Prince. I’ve had for years now, probably. Not that it matters.”

“Why not?” Lance asked. “I mean, it’s not like you have competition or–,”

“The Prince sees me as an ally and a tool,” Shiro said, his mouth quirking. “Sometimes, I like to think that he also sees me as a friend. But that’s it. And he certainly doesn’t need me to bother him with my feelings. So, please… just keep that part to yourself, okay?”

Lance could do little else, but nod as Shiro walked out of his room, feeling more confused than ever.

* * *

It took him several days to get used to the idea. Kethelsar, the abrasive alien Prince, was actually a submissive member of his species. Which meant that he liked getting tossed around and made to obey in bed. Lance couldn’t really blame him; hell, he’d obey Shiro in bed, out of bed, to the window, to the wall.

Shiro just had that kind of vibe.

What sucked, though, was that Shiro was obviously smitten with the idiot. Now that Lance was paying attention, he saw it _everywhere_. Every time Shiro glanced at the Prince, his entire posture seemed to soften, and his eyes became… different, somehow. Lance wasn't much for poetry, but he knew puppy-dog eyes when he saw them. And Shiro was a prime example of a man who wanted more.

 _Keith_.

The name, which echoed in his head in the form of Shiro’s hushed moan, really did suit the Prince. In a weird way, he looked a lot more human now, now that Lance was ready to see that part of him. Lance had seen pictures of the other Galra, with their tails and their scales and their fur and their burning eyes; and Kethelsar was decidedly more… human-like.

 _Keith_ was more human-like.

 _Keith_ was still the one who was holding him hostage. Even though the reasons were pretty good, he supposed; it wouldn’t do to have the entirety of the Galra fleet descend onto the Earth should he return there. That didn’t mean he forgave the Prince.

He just… suddenly felt like cheering him up. It was a weird feeling.

Which was why he was thrown off when one day he walked into the main chamber of the ship to find Kethelsar barely upright and trembling, grasping at the throne-chair-thingy as his knees buckled.

Captor or not, Lance wasn’t about to let Kethelsar conk himself out by hitting his head on the extremely hard floor (he had once slipped and fallen, and it had taken _weeks_ for his knees to heal). So he made a beeline to catch the Prince before he collapsed.

It was then that he noticed that Kethelsar’s breathing was weird. Shallow, gasping. He clutched at his throat as Lance turned him around and propped him up against his arm to look him in the face.

There was water on his face – sweat. Lance hadn’t known that the Galra could sweat.

"Hey, hey," Lance said frantically, eyes wide as he tried to gauge what was wrong. The last thing he had heard from Shiro had been that Kethelsar had retired to the main chamber to talk to his father, the Emperor.

What the _hell_ –

Kethelsar's eyes seemed to be glossed over; it was almost like he was slipping away.

“No, no, you _stay with me_ ,” Lance instructed, glancing around for a button or a panel or something that would call Shiro in there. The man was outside, doing maintenance work on the hull, so he had no way of hearing Lance even if he yelled for him.

 _Fuck_.

“Listen, okay?” Lance whispered. “Listen to my breathing, yeah? In and out, yeah?” He grabbed Kethelsar’s clawed hand and placed it on his chest. “In and out.” He took an exaggerated breath to demonstrate.

Little by little, the Galra seemed to catch on, attempting to breathe in tandem with Lance. His yellowy eyes never left Lance's face, and for a moment, the human lost his train of thought. The Prince was very pretty.

_Not the time nor the place, idiot._

“That’s it, that’s good,” Lance reassured the Galra, nodding at him encouragingly. He realized then that Kethelsar was slumped against him in his lap like some maiden in distress and Lance was half-hugging, half-holding him up. “That’s it. You’re doing so well.”

Kethelsar made a little sound in response to that, and Lance’s eyes widened. “Yeah? You like it when I tell you that you’re doing well?”

Another little sound, almost like a whine. _Jesus_.

“So good,” Lance breathed, rocking Kethelsar gently, “you’re doing so good for me… _Keith_.”

He waited with bated breath, hoping that the Prince wouldn’t suddenly snap out of it and clock him in the face for that one. His fears were unfounded; instead of yelling and snapping at him, the Galra relaxed even more into his arms and buried his face into Lance’s neck, inhaling his scent in a way that was way more intimate than anything Lance had experienced in his life.

“T-That’s good,” Lance whispered encouragingly, trying to ignore the way his sheer robe brushed against a very obviously _hard_ problem. _Damn it, you moron! Could you_ not _get a boner around a traumatized alien?_

Lance desperately tried to think unsexy thoughts as he held the Prince, stroking his back. Kethelsar had calmed down completely, relaxed and pliant in his arms, and Lance wondered whether it was his Submissive nature that allowed him to–

“ _Keith!_ ”

The doors slid open, and Shiro bolted into the room, still half-dressed in his space suit. He ripped the top of it off and fell to his knees next to Lance, looking at him with distress clearly written all over his face.

When he saw Kethelsar’s sleepy, calm countenance, he glanced up at Lance in awe. “You got him out?”

Lance frowned in response. “Got him out of what?”

“His Drop," Shiro said reverently, eyes fixed on Kethelsar's face. The Prince's eyes had slid closed, and he seemed to have fallen into a slumber.

“Drop?”

"Sub Drop," Shiro said like it explained things. "That's what happens when he's under a lot of stress or something bad happens or if he's alone; there are so many reasons why–,"

“Like talking to his dad,” Lance said, realizing what it had been that had triggered Kethelsar so badly.

Shiro nodded seriously. “Like that. I knew I should have stayed with him, but he made me leave and… _fuck_.”

They both looked down at the Prince who had unconsciously cuddled even closer to Lance’s chest.

“Will he be okay?” Lance asked.

Shiro nodded tentatively. “You did the right thing. Held him. Comforted him. That was what he needed. He’s probably going to be pretty groggy and skittish in the next couple of days. Submissive, too.”

“Well, good thing you’re here, then,” Lance said with an uneasy chuckle.

Shiro glanced at him with something that was almost like respect. And something else. “Yeah… good thing.”

“I guess you want to take him, right?” Asked Lance, trying to detach the Prince from himself. Kethelsar only squirmed, eyes closed and brows furrowed. “Doesn’t look like he wants to go, though. Sorry about that.”

He looked up at Shiro who was watching the two of them with pensive eyes. “Something wrong?”

Shiro offered him a polite smile. “No, it’s just that… he’s never responded to anyone like this. Not that I know of. Then again, I don’t think he’s ever had a Dom.”

“Before you came along,” Lance said. “Before you.”

“Before me,” Shiro said. He chuckled lightly. “It’s so weird, right? That we’re in this… relationship, whatever it was, even though we’re from different species. Even though he’s a Prince and I’m a captive astronaut turned bodyguard.”

“I don’t think it’s weird,” Lance replied. “But then again, I… I mean, you two have your thing going on. And maybe he’s got feeligns–,”

"Please don't go there," Shiro said, an almost pained expression on his face. "I had given up on that a long time ago. And I'm alright with what I have now. I have his trust, and he has my loyalty."

 _Where do I fit in, then?_ Lance thought longingly. His hand found Kethelsar’s soft hair, brushing over the purple ears. They were pretty soft. And cute. Very cute, considering Lance had always been a cat person.

“I don’t think you should give up,” Lance said. “And I don’t think he should either.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Lance shrugged. “I’m just saying. Maybe you’ve got it all wrong.”

They sat there in silence, Lance stroking Kethelsar’s hair, and Shiro watching the two of them. Eventually, they shifted, and Shiro managed to get Kethelsar into his arms, taking him to his bedroom to rest.

Lance dawdled for a moment longer in the main chamber, his lap feeling very cold and his hands suddenly empty.

* * *

After that, things were… okay. Strange, but okay. Lance found that Kethelsar, already a private person, tended to do little else but avoid talking about his revelation. Their lives aboard the Galra ship went back to normal – Kethelsar still asked Lance about the Earth, and still touched his hair as the two of them sat in his control room. The only difference was that Lance could remember what it had been like when he’d been the one touching Kethelsar’s hair. Petting him. Comforting him.

It took several days for the Prince to murmur a soft, out of place, _thank you_.

“What for?” Lance asked, glancing up at him.

Kethelsar paused and then resumed his gentle treatment of Lance’s hair. “You know what for,” he said, a little stiffly. “You helped me with my Drop. For that, I thank you.”

“Any decent person would have done that if they were in my shoes,” Lance replied with a small shrug.

“You are not wearing any shoes,” the Prince replied, and Lance huffed out a laugh. It was surprising, with how advanced the Galra were, that turns of phrase went right over their heads.

"It's an expression. Means that if it were someone else, they would have done the same thing I did."

“I believe that to be incorrect,” Kethelsar murmured back after a moment. “In my experience, the only people who have helped me with it are Shiro and yourself.”

“What about the Galra?” Lance asked, frowning. “I mean… it must have happened before you and Shiro met, right?”

“I was left to my own devices, I’m afraid,” Kethelsar replied. There was no malice in his voice, no bitterness; it was a statement of fact, and Lance’s heart clenched when he remembered the breathless, whimpering mess the Prince had been. That was just cruel.

“Why wouldn’t they help?”

“They were not allowed,” Kethelsar said evenly. “My father prohibited all of his people to touch me in that way. Everyone, including my own family.”

Lance hummed. “Your dad is an idiot.”

“He is, in fact, very intelligent,” Kethelsar said.

“You know what I mean,” Lance said, rolling his eyes. He glanced up to see Kethelsar’s lips quirk upward.

“Yes. In that sense, he is quite the… idiot.”

“Why do you let him do this to you?” Lance asked.

Kethelsar’s hand stilled in Lance’s hair. “What do you mean by that, Lance?”

“I mean that… you let him send you away, all because you wanted to save Shiro, and you… he made you suffer when you were a kid. That’s not right.”

Kethelsar hummed thoughtfully. "Perhaps. Then again, this is not the kind of mentality my father encourages in Galra society. Having been raised on such principles, I had few ideas on how to improve my situation. Being sent away with Shiro was one that worked."

“But don’t you want to–,”

“Be Emperor? The gods forbid.”

Lance worried his bottom lip between his teeth. "What do you want to be then?"

Kethelsar hummed thoughtfully. “For the longest time, I thought I would be a Prince. A proper one, to be married off for the sake of an intergalactic alliance or some other… cause.”

“But that’s not what you wanted to be either,” Lance deduced.

Kethelsar chuckled. “At the time, I did not know of any options.”

“And you have them now?”

“More so than ever.”

“What changed?” Lance asked curiously.

“Shiro.”

_Well, that’s a surprise. A straight answer for once._

“Shiro?”

Kethelsar resumed his stroking of Lance’s hair. “Yes, Shiro. He was the first space explorer–,”

“–astronaut–,”

“– _astronaut_ I met,” Kethelsar said, correcting himself emphatically with a certain degree of amusement. “He told me about Earth and the planets surrounding it. About your people’s eternal thirst for exploration for the sake of exploration. Not for control.”

“I’m pretty sure that once humans have the technology, they’ll try to control other planets,” Lance said with a small sigh. “We don’t exactly have a good track record with colonization.”

“Ah, yes. Shiro has told me of that as well,” the Prince said. “It seems your people have things in common with mine.”

“But not everyone is like that!” Lance said hurriedly. “I mean… there are some people, scientists, travelers, who just do it because they want to know more.”

“Are you one of them?” Kethelsar asked. “You were in the same program Shiro completed, is that correct?”

Lance nodded lightly. “I wanted to be in the Garrison, to fly into space, but, uh… more because I wanted money.”

“Money?” Kethelsar asked.

Lance shrugged. “My family isn’t very well off, so I figured, if I could become a famous pilot or whatever, I could at least support them somehow.”

“You were poor?”

“Not _poor_!" Lance huffed. The Prince had the tact of a brick wall. "Just… not very well-off. My parents are immigrants; they have to work very hard to provide for my siblings.”

“Immigrants?”

“From a different country.”

“Shiro explained countries to me,” Kethelsar said, his eyes flashing with recognition. “A fascinating concept.”

“Well, it’s not so fascinating when some of them are rich and control the rest of the world while others struggle. So, my mom and dad up and left and went to the U.S. for a better life,” Lance said. “On a small boat. My siblings and I were born on American soil already.”

“I suppose it is tough for those who were not born there yet want to live there?” The Prince asked.

Lance nodded. “Yeah. I mean, some manage. Others get kicked out or live in secret. It’s a bit of a mess.”

“Seems like Earth doesn’t have everything figured out,” Kethelsar said.

“No, we don’t,” Lance replied. “But it’s home.”

“This ship is your home now,” Kethelsar said. “Now that you have seen the Galra, you cannot return. Not as long as my father is Emperor. He would annihilate your people if you told them–,”

“I know,” Lance said. His throat felt like someone was squeezing it with an iron fist. “I know I can’t go back. Hell, with all these leaps we’ve been making through space-time, I bet it’s already a different decade back on earth. Like what happened with Shiro.”

“Perhaps,” Kethelsar said. “Does that make you sad?”

Lance looked up. "Sad?" He chuckled his own laughter a dead sound to his ears. "Heartbroken."

“I am afraid I’m not familiar with the concept,” Kethelsar said, cocking his head to the side curiously. “Are human hearts brittle enough to break?”

Lance hummed noncommittally. His face brightened, and he managed a teary smile up at the Prince. "Hey, you didn't punish me."

“Pardon?”

“You said that you’d punish me severely if I ever brought my family up,” Lance said, a little bit smug. “And you didn’t. Does that mean that you like me now?”

Kethelsar sighed deeply, his eyebrow twitching in annoyance. “Off with you. Go see what Shiro needs help with.”

Lance got off the floor and smirked at the Prince who seemed to be poutier than usual. “You like me now.”

“I have developed a number of feelings about you, some of which are warm, and others, _annoyed_ ,” the Prince said emphatically. “Now go, before I have the sentries lock you up.”

Lance fought the urge to stick out his tongue as he made for the door. He felt Kethelsar’s gaze on him, and so, when the doors slid open in front of him, he paused.

“Your Highness?”

“Yes, Lance?” Kethelsar asked tiredly.

“Human hearts are very easily broken.”

Before Kethelsar could question it, he was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's part 2, as promised!

Over the next weeks, Lance couldn’t help but notice a change in the dynamic between Kethelsar and Shiro. There was something different, something almost _tender_ about the way the Prince addressed his most loyal bodyguard; and Shiro looked like he had shed ten years, blossoming under his attention.

What was a little disturbing, though, was that Lance felt himself to be the object of said attention as well.

From both of them.

It began about a week after his conversation with the Prince, when he woke up in his chambers to find a crystal on what served as his bedside table. It was a pretty thing, like nothing he’d ever seen on Earth, with so many sides to it that it positively _gleamed_ in the dim violet lighting of the spaceship.

He picked it up and turned it over in his hand. He had no idea what it was for; the only thing he could think of was a paperweight. Still, it was pretty, and Lance liked shiny things, so he kept it, leaving it on his bedside table. Every morning he woke up, it was the first thing he saw, and it made him feel almost happy to be here.

Next came an even more intricate gift – he opened his bedroom door, tugging on his sheer robe to find a dagger, sheathed in what looked like very durable black leather lying on the floor, waiting to be picked up. He pulled it out of its sheath to discover that the blade was almost entirely black as well, with some silver around the edges and violet markings that glowed – a trademark Galra sign.

 _Finder’s keepers,_ he thought; and so now, he carried a dagger on his thigh. When he walked into the main chamber for the first time with it peeking visibly from the slit in his robe, Kethelsar and Shiro stilled their conversation, both looking at him with unreadable expressions.

It made Lance feel all hot and cold at the same time.

Then came tablets with thousands of pages of Galra literature on the known universe, knick-knacks and little things that littered his room in a parody of decoration. He accepted all of them because attention was something he’d never gotten, being just one of the many children in his family. Kethelsar and Shiro never mentioned anything, and neither did he.

Finally, about a month into this strange routine of present-giving, Lance’s doors slid open to find Shiro there with two breakfast trays.

“Hey,” Lance breathed.

“Uh…” Shiro glanced down a little bashfully. “The Prince is occupied today, Galra business, so I figured… uh, do you want to have breakfast together?”

Lance lifted an eyebrow. “Sure.” Why was Shiro so flustered? It was just space goo.

That was how they ended up on Lance’s floor, eating their goo and fantasizing about what they’d have for breakfast instead were they on Earth. Shiro had been away long enough to barely remember what food really tasted like, and Lance was all too happy to remind him.

“Oh, and waffles!”

Shiro moaned, the sound going right down to Lance’s nether regions. “Fuck, I’d forgotten about waffles. I used to eat them _drenched_ in maple syrup.”

“Nah, chocolate sauce is the way to go,” Lance argued, and Shiro chuckled.

“Let’s agree to disagree.”

There was a long moment of silence, before–

“I think I know what I miss about the Earth most,” Shiro said quietly.

Lance looked at him, a little surprised. Shiro didn’t really seem to like bringing the subject up. “What is it?”

“The air.”

“The air?”

Shiro nodded. “Yeah. Haven’t you noticed how dry it is in here? On this ship? Probably to prevent corrosion and all that, but… it doesn’t smell like much. The air on Earth always smelled of different things. Like the sea and ran and–,”

“–freshly-mown grass,” Lance finished for him, closing his eyes. “Yeah…”

He opened them to see Shiro’s small smile. “Yeah.”

Somehow, weirdly so, they ended up sitting very close, with their shoulders pressed together. Somehow, Lance could suddenly see just how thick and long Shiro’s eyelashes were.

Their eyes met.

And then their lips did too.

At first, Lance thought his brain had completely cut out, short-circuiting and not receiving any signal except for the pure delight he felt as he kissed Shiro. And Shiro, bless him, was kissing back, his hand carefully placed on Lance's cheek, almost like an afterthought.

Shiro kissed like the gentle giant he was: slowly, cautiously, as if afraid to cause his partner any harm. Lance could hardly reconcile this softness with the dominating power he had seen Shiro exercise with the Prince–

_Fuck. The Prince._

Lance's brain kicked back in, and he pulled away hurriedly, leaving Shiro hanging with his eyes half-open.

“S-Shiro,” he whispered, touching his lips with his fingers. “Shiro, what was that?”

The man leaned back, his lips still glistening. Fuck.

“That…” He breathed. “That was a kiss.”

Lance’s stomach did flips. “Why…?”

"Because I like you," Shiro said quietly, observing Lance with a little frown between his brows. "Because I've wanted to do this for a while, and… yeah."

“But… don’t you… with the Prince…?”

Shiro lifted an eyebrow. “Is that a problem?”

Lance gave Shiro an incredulous look. “Of course it is!”

“Can’t I like two people at the same time?” Shiro asked.

“Well… of course you can, but–,”

“I like you, Lance,” Shiro said with conviction. His hand found Lance’s wrist, and the younger man was pretty sure that Shiro could feel his pulse beat frantically against the thin surface of his skin.

“I really like you, and… I know the Prince likes you too, so…”

_The Prince likes me too?_

“W-why would you say that?” Lance stammered. “The Prince–,”

“–has been leaving you courting gifts for weeks now,” Shiro said. “Just as I have.”

Lance’s brain did another funny. “Wait, what? _Courting?_ ”

“Of course,” Shiro said incredulously. His frown deepened. “Don’t you think it’s a bit strange to be given so many gifts over such a short period of time?”

Lance just stared at him.

"I suppose… I must have been too hasty," Shiro murmured, more to himself than Lance. "If you don't… see him or me that way, I–,"

“I do,” Lance said quickly, grabbing onto Shiro’s arm. Grey eyes met blue. “I do, I really do, but–,”

He didn’t get to finish his sentence because instead of words, his mouth was once again busy with kissing Shiro back. This time, it was more insistent; more to the point, but still just as soft.

When Shiro pulled away, he was smiling. “Just… trust me, okay? The Prince… might not be able to show it, but I know he appreciates you. A lot. Especially after what you did for him when he Dropped.”

“You can’t–,”

Shiro pressed a finger to Lance’s lips. “The reason why you’re here, and not in the Arena on the Emperor’s ship, is because of him.”

“Come again?” Lance blurted out.

Shiro gave Lance a fond smile. “He knew you wouldn’t stand a chance, not after he had to nurse me to health. Not… not after he’s seen what happened there. So when he saw you, someone just like me, another human, he asked his father for one final request. And here you are.”

Lance stared at him. “I thought–,”

“You thought you were just a pet?” Shiro asked, offering Lance a little smile.

Lance nodded.

“You’re so much more than that. You’re a chance to do right by humanity for him. Or, you were… now, you’re so much more.” Shiro’s smile got wider. “I’ve seen how much fun you have together. You make him happy. And he… he makes you happy too, doesn’t he?”

There was a pause.

Lance ended up nodding. “I… I understand.” He still wanted more, though. And he didn’t want to get between Shiro and the Prince. “But–,”

“The Prince isn’t… he doesn’t see me that way,” Shiro said, his face a little bit sad.

“Now who’s being an idiot,” Lance said.

Shiro gave him an interested look.

“I’m serious, Shiro. He trusts you.”

“Trust doesn’t mean–,”

“I’ve seen it,” Lance said. “I’ve seen the way he clings to you, and it’s not just because he needs you. He knows I can help him now with his Drop, but he still looks at you the same way.”

Shiro shook his head and pressed his lips to Lance's knuckles. "You're seeing things."

"I know what I'm seeing," Lance said, glaring at Shiro. "And what I'm seeing is an alien Prince who's in love with his handsome human bodyguard and just doesn't know how to say it."

Shiro gave him a doubtful look. “Even so, will he ever say it?”

Lance placed a hand on Shiro’s cheek. “I’m sure he will. We just need to be patient.”

* * *

Patience, as it turned out, was not a virtue – not when you were on a ship belonging to an outcast prince of an alien empire. One minute everything was fine, if not a little too slow for Lance, who had made it his mission to bring Shiro and Kethelsar closer together; and the next, they were being boarded by the Crown Prince of the Galra Empire and Smug Asshole of the Universe Award winner, Lotor.

Also known as Kethelsar’s less attractive, more genocidal brother.

Lotor was everything Kethelsar wasn’t. He was arrogant, which was a judgment Lance made from the get-go. The moment Lotor set foot onto their ship with his posse, consisting of part-Galra ladies who all looked like they crushed skulls before their morning coffee, Lance decided that he didn’t like the guy. Not at all.

The way Lotor positively _sneered_ at Shiro when the man offered to take his cloak was enough of an indication what he thought of humans. And when Lotor’s eyes fell on Lance himself, his mouth quirked before he turned back to his brother, with an arrogant air to his entire person.

“What a pretty human whore you have here," he said, lifting an eyebrow as he looked down at his younger brother. The difference between the two of them couldn't be more pronounced at that moment; and Lance was suddenly very, very happy that Kethelsar looked almost nothing like Lotor outside of the purplish hue to his skin.

“Pity Father didn’t give him to _me_. _I_ would know how to destroy him.”

Lance trembled with silent rage as he settled on the cushion by Kethelsar’s feet. The hand that jumped into his hair to stroke it shook.

“Perhaps this is exactly why Father did not want you to have him,” Kethelsar replied coolly. “Perhaps he remembers what happened to the last one.”

 _The last one?_ Lance didn’t like the sound of it. Lotor, on the other hand, seemed to enjoy the thought, his eyes glinting in a way that made Shiro tense up – Lance could see that happening from his perch at Kethelsar’s feet. Shiro went from the kind teddy bear that Lance had dubbed him (only in his mind, he didn’t really have the bravado to call Shiro that out loud just yet), to the Champion the arena on Zarkon’s ship had made him. He stood perfectly still next to his Prince’s throne, his face motionless but somehow still very tense.

Apparently, Lotor had that effect on people because Lance’s hands were sure to start cramping very soon.

“No matter,” Lotor said snootily. “I have had my fill of human toys.”

Kethelsar looked at him darkly. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Oh, Father presented me with the most wonderful of opportunities to experiment on human filth after you left the fleet,” Lotor said breezily. “Humans are quite entertaining when you know exactly what it is that makes them squeal.”

The hand in Lance’s hair tightened so much he winced.

“Not all of us are prone to indulge in sick fantasies, _brother_ ,” Kethelsar said with distaste.

“Perhaps not all of us are made for greatness,” Lotor replied, his eyes glowing – and cold, at the same time.

“This is why I am here, _brother_ ,” Lotor sneered at the younger Galra, whose eyes narrowed minutely. “I have some facts to deliver on Father’s behalf.”

“One would think you, of all, would not stoop to the level of a mere messenger,” Kethelsar replied suspiciously. The look on Lotor’s face was reason enough for everyone in the room to assume there was more to this conversation than met the eye.

“Oh, usually I would not,” said the silver-haired prince. “Yet I asked Father for this mission. Simply because I wanted to be the first to relish the look on your face.”

Kethelsar leaned in, his fangs bared.

“What look on my face?”

Everything happened very quickly after that. Lance found himself slamming into the wall painfully, pushed away by Shiro's firm hand, as Lotor's generals surged forward and grabbed Kethelsar while their prince produced a syringe filled with glowing, purple liquid. Shiro tried to grab it – but one of Lotor's cronies, the largest one, pinned him against the wall as if he weighed nothing. His mechanical arm glowed menacingly, and he managed to cut her down, struggling free – and just a nick of time too late.

Lotor plunged the needle into his brother’s neck.

Kethelsar fell to his knees, gasping in obvious agony, as Lotor’s generals let him go. He clutched at his neck, trying to get the syringe out – but it was of no consequence, as it was already empty.

The Prince slumped to the floor sideways, his breathing labored.

Lance was the first to react then – he skidded forward on his knees and grabbed Kethelsar, bringing his head into his lap. He removed the needle from his neck and cradled the shaggy head in his hands.

He was strangely sober. Not panicking.

“What did you do to him?" He growled while Shiro attempted to get to Lotor, his eyes wild. The man ripped one of Lotor's generals to shred and finally. Finally, his Galra hand closed around the Crown Prince's neck.

 _“Answer us!”_ He growled, and Lance could have sworn the sound was almost unrecognizable – it was not the gentle, slow cadence of Shiro’s usually reserved speech. He was _mad_.

“I merely… restored him to his true state,” Lotor choked out, a sleazy smile on his lips. Shiro lost concentration then, unwittingly turning to look at Kethelsar’s seizing form in Lance’s arms. That was his mistake.

The sound of metal cutting through flesh was surprisingly loud in space. Lance could only watch with wide eyes as Shiro stumbled back, Lotor’s knife embedded in his side.

“ _Shiro_ …”

Shiro swayed on the spot, and then collapsed, first to his knees, and then face-down.

Lotor massaged his throat and nodded at his two remaining sycophants. “We're done here," he said, and Lance had to admit he felt very satisfied hearing a rasp in his voice.

“Enjoy,” he said to the human. “Your little _Prince_ is full of surprises.”

It took Lance a moment to realize what kind of situation he was in. An unconscious and probably poisoned Kethelsar, and a stabbed, bleeding out Shiro.

Good thing he’d had First Aid training at the Garrison.

“Right, right, right,” he whispered to himself. “ABC’s, Lance, ABC’s.”

He ripped off the outer layer of Kethelsar’s robe and placed it under his head as he rolled the Prince onto his left side, his hand soothing on the Prince’s shoulder. Airway, check. Breathing, check. Circulation, check.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he whispered, carding his fingers through the Prince’s hair. His head turned towards Shiro, and he helped the man onto his back. "How are you holding up there, buddy? How’s the knife-hole?”

Shiro gave him a grim smile. “Holy.”

Lance gave him an unimpressed look.

“Is he gonna be okay?” Shiro asked, nodding towards Kethelsar with a pained grunt.

Lance glanced down. “The seizures are farther in between than before. Gotta be a good sign, right? Right?”

“What _was_ in that syringe?” Shiro asked with a growl. “I swear to God, as soon as I’m better, I’m going after that fucking–,”

“Shiro, language!” Lance admonished. He glanced at the knife embedded in Shiro’s side. “Think you can get yourself to the healing pod?”

Shiro made a face. “I hate those things. Always feels wrong being in there.”

“Well, you have a dagger in your side and a Prince to take care of, so I suggest you get your ass in gear and get that fixed,” Lance said, a little sharply.

Shiro’s eyes widened in surprise, and then he got up heavily, chuckling. “Who would have thought…”

“What?” Lance snapped, his attention back to Keith.

“That you, a prisoner-slave, would be so bossy,” Shiro said. “I’m pretty sure the Prince would like that.”

Lance blushed. “Try growing up in a family of six children, as one of the eldest, and then we’ll talk.”

He placed Kethelsar on the floor gently and then walked over to the pod to help Shiro inside. Once the man was successfully getting healed, Lance returned to the Prince, cradling him softly to his chest. The tall Galra was much more serene like this when he wasn't frowning or thrashing. Pretty.

Lance groaned, unconsciously pulling the Prince closer. Whether Shiro agreed to this or not, he knew that he was going to seek the Prince's attention. He had no idea how Kethelsar felt about him outside of curiosity and begrudging camaraderie. If he were frank with himself, he knew that he stood no chance against Shiro – Shiro had been there first, and he was the Prince’s closest ally and friend. So if Kethelsar were to pick one of them, it would be Shiro.

He wondered whether Kethelsar would pick at all.

* * *

Shiro and Lance took turns sitting by Kethelsar’s sickbed. The Prince had been out cold for several days now, and every diagnostic Shiro was capable of running with his Galra hand using the ship’s equipment came back clean. As far as the ship was concerned, Kethelsar was healthy.

Except he hadn’t opened his eyes in days.

Lane knew it was taking a toll on both of them. Every time Shiro came in to replace him, his eyes would appear more sunken than before. It was evident that the man wasn't sleeping well. He couldn’t really blame him, though – he didn’t sleep too well these days either.

He spent his time by Kethelsar’s bedside reading to him, talking about Earth (though he didn’t know for whose benefit that was, his own, or the Prince’s). He combed Kethelsar’s hair and made sure to move him a little bit in bed so that he wouldn’t get too sore. Sometimes, he even held Kethelsar’s hand and murmured things into his knuckles. Kissed them, too, sometimes.

He knew Shiro did the same. Except Shiro would place his kisses on Kethelsar’s forehead. He would wipe him down and give him sponge baths. Sometimes, Lance would walk in on Shiro bent over the Prince’s body, his forehead resting against his chest, his eyes screwed shut as he whispered things over and over again. Lance didn’t strain to hear. He didn’t need to.

Sometimes, they were there together, between their shifts. They didn’t talk at all – just sat there, looking down at Kethelsar and wondering when and if he would wake up. Lance found himself migrating closer to Shiro, and soon enough, he would lay his head on Shiro’s shoulder or play with his flesh fingers, their hands twined together in one of their laps. They didn’t do anything couple-y: no kisses, nothing sexual. It felt wrong doing it with the Prince being the way he was right now.

Lance knew that despite everything, despite the path he had taken inadvertently to end up here, he wanted Kethelsar to participate.

It was almost two weeks later that he was snoozing with his hand wrapped loosely around the Prince’s when he felt himself get shaken awake quite roughly. He jumped up, his vision blurry, to see Shiro’s wide-eyed face look up at him in wonder.

“Wuzzgoinon?” He wiped at his eyes.

“Look.”

Lance leaned over to see where Shiro was pointing. And what he saw made his heart still in his chest.

“What–,”

Kethelsar stirred uncomfortably with his head in Shiro's lap, and Lance watched with rapt fascination as his purple skin slowly ebbed away from his hairline to reveal an entirely pale, human hue.

“Shiro, what’s–,”

Shiro shook his head, his lips parted. “I don’t know.”

The Prince’s slightly feline nose became a little bit more pronounced, no longer velvety at the end. His ears seemed to creep down the sides of his face, only to become more rounded, sporting human earlobes.

Claws were replaced with blunt human fingernails, and his entire form shifted, becoming more compact. Lance gripped Kethelsar's hand in his, feeling it grow softer, more like his own.

“He’s…”

“He… _restored him to his true state_ ,” Shiro breathed.

“What?”

“Remember what Lotor said? That he _restored_ the Prince to… his true state." Shiro's eyes met Lance's, and the two of them glanced back down at the Prince in awe.

“Does this mean…?”

Shiro shook his head. “He can’t be.”

“But–,”

That was when Kethelsar let out a small whimper, his hands instinctively seeking out Shiro and Lance. The two squeezed back, glad to see the Prince showing some signs of life. Lance squeezed Kethelsar’s starkly human hand.

“Keth– uh, Your Highness?” He asked, leaning in to listen to the Prince’s breath.

“U-uh…”

Whatever Kethelsar was going through, it wasn’t pleasant – there were beads of sweat on his forehead, and his entire body trembled finely as if he had a fever. His fingers and toes clenched and unclenched and pained gasps escaped him. Shiro’s hand on his own seemed to calm him a little, but still, there was an unrest about him that Lance and Shiro didn’t like.

“P-please…” The word escaped the Prince’s lips, and Lance saw Shiro’s eyes widen minutely.

"He's having a Drop," Shiro whispered, his face ashen with realization. "He's Dropping, Lance."

“Please…”

Lance watched with fascination as Kethelsar's now-human body, wrapped in Galra clothing that was too big for him, seemed to gravitate towards Shiro even though the Prince's eyes were closed. It reminded Lance somehow of a newborn puppy – blind and helpless but still able to instinctively reach for its mother.

Shiro, though shaken, wrapped his arms around the Prince and held him fast against his chest. The tender treatment didn’t seem to do much good: the Prince began to thrash in his hold, squirming.

“Please…”

 _He doesn’t want to be held,_ Lance’s mind supplied, and he was pretty sure his brain short-circuited for a little bit. _He wants to be taken._

Kethelsar’s hand found his knee and squeezed almost painfully, and Lance leaned in, his eyes wide in wonder. As a human, Kethelsar was pretty. Very pretty, with long lashes and a button nose and soft lips that though thin, begged to be kissed.

Devoured.

Lance didn’t know how it happened, but suddenly all he could think of was the animalistic want that pooled in the pit of his stomach.

_Take him._

“Lance?”

His eyes snapped up to face Shiro.

“Take him,” Shiro said, gently offering the Prince to him. “He wants you.”

“What?” The question escaped him a little too quickly. “N-no, Shiro, I couldn’t–,”

“He wants you,” Shiro said. And although Lance knew that he was just doing this for the Prince’s sake, he thought he saw a hint of sadness in Shiro’s eyes. Almost as if the man felt betrayed.

"No," Kethelsar breathed, and the two of them turned to look at his flushed face. Against the now-pale skin, his blush was a harsh slap. “Please…”

“I think he wants both of us,” Lance whispered.

Suddenly, Kethelsar's hands shot out, and both Shiro and Lance found themselves being tugged closer to the Prince with a surprisingly firm grip. Galra or not, ill or not, the Prince had a lot of power behind his seemingly delicate muscles.

Lance bit his lip and glanced at Shiro uncertainly. Of course, a scenario like this hand never crossed his mind, but he would be lying to himself if he denied having had a similar dream or a dozen: with Shiro and him taking turns on the submissive Prince, or taking him together, or having him service them or–

“Lance,” Shiro murmured. “We need to help him.”

“We need to,” Lance echoed, not quite in his head right now.

They meticulously and gently stripped away the remainder of Kethelsar’s clothing and tossed the extra pillows and blankets off the bed. Shiro lost his own clothes within a matter of seconds – Lance had to admit that was a talent in and of itself. He didn't have much to shed – the pet's robes he had taken to wearing out of habit now slid down his shoulders, and he stepped over his underwear, leaving nothing to shield his heated, shivering body.

The Prince's eyes snapped open when the two of them tugged him down onto their naked bodies, and for a moment, it seemed like he experienced a smidgeon of confused lucidity. But the second Shiro’s hand came down onto the pale flesh of his ass, his eyes went blank again, and his mouth parted into a gasping, drooling mess.

Lance didn’t know how to feel about that. This was everything he’d ever wanted, but… the Prince was so desperate, so… Lance’s breath stuttered in his chest.

“It’s alright,” Shiro said, smacking the Prince once more and making him moan.

“Shiro, I–,”

“He _needs_ this," Shiro said quietly. "If he didn't have any trust in you, he wouldn't have picked you. He knows it's you and me. It's not a random stranger, Lance."

Lance's hand reached out, and he slid his two fingers between Kethelsar's lips. The Prince latched on to them instantly, sucking and licking between them as if they were a sugary treat. The sensation made Lance bite his lip. Warmth pooled down to his nether regions, and he knew he was hard, so hard, and the Prince was right there, sucking on his fingers with abandon while Shiro smacked his ass.

_Probably not what one would expect from being abducted by aliens._

Lance couldn’t tear his eyes away as Shiro began to prepare the Prince, his mechanical hand gently prodding his opening. The Prince moaned, half-there, half-absent, and whined to made Lance add another finger to his mouth.

“Give him your cock,” Shiro murmured. The words had an enjoyable effect on Lance – Shiro talking dirty in that deep voice of his was more than enough to make him rock hard.

He shuffled closer, and Kethelsar grabbed his cock with his hand, startling him.

Immediately, Shiro’s hand came down with a resounding smack.

“Suck him, don’t play around,” Shiro instructed, and _fuck_ , Lance didn’t know who was more aroused by that at this point: the Prince or him. Apparently, that worked miracles on Kethelsar who immediately leaned in and placed a hand on Lance’s hip before getting to work on the head of Lance’s dick.

“Fuck…” Lance sighed. His hand came up to tug at Kethelsar’s hair instinctively under Shiro’s watchful eye. The man’s gaze _burned_ and made Lance feel all the more incensed by all this.

Shiro did something with his fingers then, which made the Prince moan around Lance’s cock, sending vibrations down the length of it. The shiver reached Lance’s spine and his tossed his head back.

“Fuck, fuck… Your Hi–,”

“Call him _Keith_ ,” Shiro cut him off, a gleam in his eyes that Lance didn’t know how to interpret. “He _likes_ it.”

As if to confirm his words, the Prince moaned again, making Lance lose all rational thought.

"Keith…" He whispered and watched in fascination as the Prince's back went ramrod straight for a moment and a whimper escaped his occupied mouth. "Keith…"

Shiro’s mechanical hand resumed its punishing rhythm while his other hand prepared the non-Galra. Keith scrambled for purchase, his hands grasping at Lance’s hips to find support. Lance gave it by grabbing onto Keith’s dark hair extra tightly.

“You like it,” Lance panted in disbelief, “this pain, you _love_ it.”

Keith moaned, and Shiro smiled gently at him. Despite his smacking the Prince around, Lance could see that Shiro cared deeply for him.

“It’s his bread and butter,” Shiro said, letting go of Keith’s ass and slicking himself up. Lance licked his lips when he saw the glistening head of Shiro’s straining cock. “He can’t survive without it.”

That was the last thing he said before he pushed in. Keith stilled under him and a mewl froze on his lips that were stretched around Lance's cock. His entire body seemed to seize, but Shiro never gave him a chance to adjust before setting a positively brutal pace that sent the Prince gagging on Lance’s cock, taking it deeper than ever before.

Lance was torn between the pleasure of his body and the pleasure of watching his two lovers connect in a way he’d only seen once, through the barely open door of Kethelsar’s quarters. How he had dreamt of being part of it.

And now he was.

He snapped out of his reverie and tugged on Keith’s hair painfully. “That’s it, so good, so good,” he whispered, noting that the Prince _loved_ being talked to.

“You’re so beautiful like this.”

Lance looked up to see Shiro smile at him, and before he could stop himself, he leaned over, meeting the man's lips in a scorching kiss which brought them even deeper into the Prince's pliant, heated body.

Kissing Shiro like this was amazing, not just because of the fact that they were fucking the prettiest, most willing piece of ass in the universe, but because this piece of ass was their Prince who, for better or worse, had brought them all together and had allowed them to find something special in the vastness of open space.

It was with that thought that Lance came, almost unexpectedly, and Keith choked on his release but not enough to let go. Instead of recoiling, the Prince seemed to suck deeper, making sure to clean Lance up until he was overly sensitive and boneless.

Lance ripped away and sank back against the headboard, his legs shaking.

“Beautiful,” Shiro breathed, and then leaned forward, his metal fingers already in Keith’s mouth, playing with the come and spit that had accumulated there. Shiro looked like he was about to burst, but Keith… Keith looked _wrecked_.

He was flushed pink, and red and all sorts of lovely, and his fingers scrambled to grab the sheets, sliding and slipping helplessly. His pretty pink cock was leaking all over the bedding, and his mouth was red and half-open, panting and drooling and moaning. His eyes were open – and fixed on Lance's, and the human could barely wait until he was ready to go again because never in his life had he seen someone beg so silently but so wholly.

When Shiro came, it was with a grunt and a curse, and he forced Keith back onto his cock, coming inside of him spasmodically. The Prince could only take it with a whimper, but the moment Shiro was done, something seemed to unravel within him, and he arched his back, moaning his release as well.

The three of them found themselves slumped together on the bed, out of breath and exhausted. Shiro took on the duties of the caretaker, as he always did, and he gently cleaned both Lance and the Prince up with what remained of their wrecked sheets. Then, he wiped his cock and lay back, inviting the two of them into his arms.

Lance immediately snuggled up, and then Keith shyly slinked his way over too, his head resting on Shiro's belly.

* * *

“What… what happened to me?”

Kethelsar broke the silence the next morning after another round of explosively good sex. He had returned to his position, with his chin resting comfortably against Shiro’s abdomen. His fingers were tangled with Lance’s who had been playing with them absently.

Shiro looked down, his face marred with worry for the first time tonight.

“Lotor,” he said finally. “He… injected you with something.”

“Turned me human,” Kethelsar whispered, glancing down at his own hand. “Like my mother.”

Shiro and Lance both started a little, and the Prince sighed deeply. “I was hoping to keep that a secret, but I suppose my brother had never been one to respect my wishes.”

Lance glanced at him, memorizing his new features finally. “Your mother was human?”

Kethelsar nodded hesitantly. “Hence me… being partial towards your kind. Our kind, I suppose; now that I’m… like this.”

There was a pause. “So… were there many humans in the Galra fleet?” Shiro asked, his hand finding its way to Kethelsar’s hair. The Prince didn’t seem to mind, leaning into the contact.

“No,” he replied. “The only human I ever knew of was my mother. I should have known not to… trust Lotor. I should have known he’d attempt to return to his perverse ways.”

Ice flooded Lance’s body. “Wait, the human he kept as a toy–,”

“–was my mother, yes,” Kethelsar replied, his voice neutral.

Lance and Shiro exchanged a look.

Lance bit his lip. “I’m so sorry, Your Highness, I–,”

“Keith.”

“Huh?” Lance stared.

The Prince moved his head a little bit so that he could look at both of them.

“My name is Keith. I am a human. I'm nobody's highness. And I certainly don't belong to my father's empire anymore," he said.

Lance and Shiro were both surprised to see a small smile play on his fine features.

“My name is Keith. And I want to… I want to live for myself. As a human.”

There was a moment of silence between the three of them in which Lance found he’d been holding his breath. Shiro’s hand resumed its petting of Keith’s hair after a moment.

“With the two people who… matter most to me.” His voice was almost inaudible. 

Lance couldn’t deny that his eyes were just a _little bit_ wet right now. He squeezed Keith’s hand gently.

“Where do you want to go, then, Keith?”

The former Prince sighed and turned over onto his back to look at the ceiling of his ship. Lance followed his gaze, and it was almost as if he could see what the man saw. Stars and moons and comets and space debris all whizzing past them; or perhaps, they were the ones disturbing the peace of deep space with their presence.

“Fuck Zarkon. And fuck Lotor,” Keith whispered, and he felt Shiro’s belly shake beneath him as he laughed.

“I want you two to find your families. Living or not, I want you to… come home.”

Shiro’s hand found Lance’s and the younger man found it difficult to look anywhere but at the ceiling that was becoming somewhat blurry in front of his eyes. They stung at the very corners and it took all of him not to interrupt Keith’s train of thought with a shuddering breath that threatened to escape him when Shiro’s fingers brushed the stray tears away from his cheeks.

“I want to see your world, the world of my mother and… to find a place I can call my own. With you two.”

Lance's chest warmed at that, and he smiled to himself shakily as Keith uttered the words he had longed to hear for so long.

“We are going to Earth.”

**Author's Note:**

> Scream at me in the comments or on [tumblr](http://haganenoheichou.tumblr.com).


End file.
